


Fangs that bite

by nightwise3



Category: Vampires (1998)
Genre: Blood, Death, Star-crossed, Teeth, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27199919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightwise3/pseuds/nightwise3
Summary: Jackson moved to this town hoping it would be a better place for his wife and kids. When the town picks him to figure out what has been happening in a very strange house Jackson goes in. The town thinks the house is owned by vampires but Jackson is skeptical. All the same, he heads in hoping the town is wrong. A little something I'm working on during my big project. Hope you like It. Best wishes.





	Fangs that bite

Jackson Parks clenched the silver cross in his right hand. The markings making imprints in his calluses. He looked at it with the disgusting look that his father had used when he would come home with bad grades. That look was the same one he now gave his kids.  
His black joggers wrinkled and crumpled as he knelt. His white shirt was stained with sweat marks. His wife, Carla Parks, would always yell at him to throw it away. It was his favorite, always had been. He always felt more confident when he wore it.  
He didn’t know why he was scared. He didn’t believe the rumors that vampires lived in the abandoned house on Zafran street. The house had been abandoned for more than he had and his family had lived on Zafran. It was true that Mr. Crane only came out at night but there were many reasonable explanations for it, Jackson thought as he wiped another bead of sweat that had been slowly trickling down his face. No one had seen any vampires but once this town thought they saw something, it was implemented in stone for the rest of everyone's lives.  
Jackson started to crawl, slowly making sure not to step on the many twigs that had fallen on the ground after last week's wind storm.  
The fear was almost childish. Like believing that something is in the dark or someone is under your bed. He realized how tight he was holding the cross and loosened his grip on it. His hands were shaking and he dropped it. He picked it up and blew the dirt out of the cracks in the cross. Instead of holding it in his hand he pocketed it and brought out his flashlight.  
He got up on his feet and walked over to the door. He tiptoed on the wooden steps, they creaked and he held his breath until he turned white. Once he felt like he was in the clear he tiptoed, more quickly, up the rest of the stairs. They creaked quietly. If what the town was telling him was true and that vampires actually lived here, and at this exact house. They shouldn’t be awake. He quickly looked at his watch, 3:50.  
The feeling of eyes stung into the back of his neck and forehead like someone or something was watching him. He stopped and froze. The only thing moving was the sweat that had now reached his bottom lip. He shook his head furiously and kept walking, the cross hanging down at his side. The silver chain bundled up into a ball in his hand.  
The outside of the house looked cold and dark. The black paint that the owners had covered the outside of the house was tearing off and wood could be seen from far away. The windows looked like they had never been opened, fungus, green and blue, clung onto the outside of the window. Jackson had thought about going through the window but took one look and almost threw up his lunch. Still clutching the cross in his right hand he reached towards the doorknob with a very shaky hand. The head of Jesus pushing into his skin.  
The doorknob turned easily and the door swung open slowly, creaking all the way. He looked in and was relieved to find it empty with beer cans lying around the floor. A stench that reminded him of the dump escaped out of the house and out into the outside. Jackson still held the cross tightly, his hand shaking so bad that he pressed it against his chest. His sharp green eyes darted around the living room like a mad man.  
When Jackson stepped inside the house he felt different. He felt good, he felt like he was in his happy place. In a field of green grass for as far as the eye could see. That's what his mind told him, his eyes and body told a different story.  
When he opened his eyes he looked around. An old TV was turned off and pushed against the wall. Jackson kicked some of the cans that were near the doorway and they rolled, crinkling, to the burgundy wall.  
Jackson felt a sudden, scary urge to call out. He stopped himself and closed his fist more tightly around the cross. His eyes darting back and forth, wall to wall. His breathing started to get heavy. If the glass was in front of him, his breath would start to make a white cloudy fog spread like a disease.  
As he stepped closer and closer, the feeling of happiness got stronger and stronger. He didn’t like it and he tried to shake it off. It stayed on like fungus. He brought his hand up to his forehead and found that he was sweating heavily. He sighed and closed his eyes.  
Finally, the smell of the dead loomed over and hit Jackson like a train. As a result, he plugged his nose. The smell wouldn’t go away and Jackson brought his hand from off of his nose and put it to his side. The smell seemed to grow stronger the farther he moved into the house. It also got darker. Shades were drawn or boarded up. Thick paper stapled or glued onto the larger windows. A fan that looked like it had not spun in ages was in the middle of the living room, collecting dust.  
He found the layout of the house eerily similar to his house. It spooked him a little but his other fears outweighed this one by a mountain. His fingers were still curled around the crucifix when he heard the first noise. He tensed up and looked around the house, his eyes wide with fear.  
The second noise came louder and grating like nails on a chalkboard. This time Jackson started to worry.  
A man appeared from out of a room holding a lead pipe. There were already streaks of blood that Jackson saw and almost peed his pants.  
“I-I'm sorry for intruding, I-I will leave,” Jackson started to turn away when the man answered back.  
“No, no, stay.” His body was just a black outline. The man’s voice sounded old, worn down like a broken down truck engine. It wasn’t horrible but it didn’t satisfy him either.  
“I rea-really should get going,” Jackson smiled at the man and started to leave.  
“If you leave me and my master will make your life a living hell.” His voice was more gritty now and Jackson tensed up.  
He sensed the man start to lurch forward, Jackson stood there frozen with fright as the man swung his pipe around in a heavy swift swing across his body, landing on Jackson’s skull knocking him out cold.


End file.
